Choir of Pink Lilies

Gillian_ferguson_photo_high_resby Gillian K Ferguson12 Aug 2013

Her sugarsong infects
afternoon’s drowsy summer ear;
auditorium of warm air.

Blushing prima donna,
she flushes to be first -
(and so beautiful to humans!)
Cuppably voluptuous,
softly bulbous in the palm,
swollen still with so much song.

Shyly opening wider, scalpelled white lips.
Her leopard-speckled throat
alchemising perfume
from sweetened rain, syruped light -
in plunging laboratories of fuchsia shadow.

Still yawning
from a green star of sinew-bones -
rosily awning her trumpet of lime-bright veins,
she dusts her rusty powders. Sunset-dust.
Trembling saffron ashes.
Golden snow of a million exotic summers.

Dreaming flamingo contraltos
waken hourly. Leaking melody
from pouting new mouths, pink diaphragms.
Slumbering altos in viridian wings
mumble - tune low, sucrose, opening notes.
And pursed, just pitching, soprano buds.
Still smelling so high, sharp as piccolos,
grassly, of stern green skeleton-staves:
tight chartreuse skulls primed.
Thin girls muted by youth.

Her honeysong is scored for lovesick furry bees -
shrunken baritones droning, bumbling clumsily
with enormous muscular thighs
among her sticky, drugging unctions.
For fantastical drunken butterflies,
stoned on hallucinatory nectar -
imagining themselves. Applauding ecstatically
with manically-percussive, trippy wings;
uncurling groovy tongues.

Shuddering memories
of other freaky tongues remembered -
probing emerald hummingbirds
flickering from the scintillated swamp:
summoned out of lustrous star-bones, brilliant minerals,
to sip at her sweetened lips and heart -
for such staggering aeons
until they are euphoric feather hand and petal glove.

She compressed, enslaved this dwindled dinosaur
in a cut-throat ruby yoke -
murdered his rough scales with her seductive fug,
floral understanding of nursery light.
Culturing the Cobalt element - Goblin Ore:
transmuting metal, smalt, atomic number,
to a shimmering, living carcass -
winged homage to the natural colours of Heaven.
A souled jewel.

Crushing emerald molecules - chromium, vanadium,
to iridescent beryl barbs, coruscating azure barbules;
groomed with unpasteurised sunlick -
hooking refulgent cerulean atoms
culled from sea’s abysmal blue soul. .
Plugging hollow reeds of the silver calamus,
plumbed with weightless starlight,
to the humming instrument of blurred spirit-bird.
Resurrection of Sparkling Violetear, Green Violetear,
crying smelted blue elements into igneous violet ears;
still hearing original fluting through the Universe -
immortal poems of viral Heaven seen: holy germs.
As a blue tear.
As an indigo tear.

Muscled syringe, hoverspeed hungry for her.

Anointing her innocently clear syrup,
lubricant single star-tear -
emotional transfiguration of sucrose and rain.
An aesthete so moved by sumptuous knowledge
of her own gorgeous physicality,
unconscious understanding of such melodiously coupled
bodily harmony: divine symbiosis.
Cultured husbandry of Earth’s colossal talent,
organic art; the dazzling industry of life -
astronomic love of the lachrymose flower.

But. Beyond her intended loving creatures –
the golden realm of bees, pollen and honey,
supernatural hover of heaven-costumed hummingbirds
sucking sucrose fuel - she registers on communal senses.
Chords memorised from the ancestral portfolio.
Floral coloratura mouthed from an evolving choir
of harmonised pink lilies
in the audience of light and water;
theatre of earth -
mammalian strings of eyes and ears.

Sung out of nothing.
Fluted from the silent, starless darkness
by bewildering aesthetic principles
of ruthless beauty: irresistible evolution
of bewitching species.

Her key signature:
composed from original music
of crumbling stars, unconscious silver molecules.
The luscious, drooling instrument of the Lily.
Her choral voice recorded
forever in the golden bulb.

Until earth cannot play her:
and everything is once again deaf.